Irony
by FinalRemuneration
Summary: It started back in the biology club, something strange but something wonderful. Twisted love was everywhere, and yet it was nowhere when Izaya wanted it most.


It was on the last day of club activities, a few days before the end of their school year, that Izaya went home with the little plant. It was small then, nothing more than a cute little green stem with only two leaves sprouting up from the soft dirt. The little blue plot fit easily between Izaya's hands, so easily it almost felt natural, and he had stared at it the entire walk home in both awe and curiosity. Shinra had picked it out from the rest, had pulled the species tag that identified it from the soil and crumpled it into his pocket, all right before he attempted to scrawl Izaya's name across the glossed paint until Izaya had smacked the marker from his hands. Then, Izaya hadn't been quite sure what it meant, what was happening. Shinra was as difficult to deal with as ever, but as he carried the little pot home, thoughts swirling in his mind, he began to realize what it all meant - what it all could mean.

It was a perfect gift from a friend.

His only friend.

The weather had been nice that day. The sky adorned with fluffy white clouds and the temperature so perfect that Izaya had no complaints, especially now. He rounded the corner to his walkway with a spring in his step, his backpack bouncing against his shoulders while the biggest smile plastered itself to his face. He had all but skipped into his empty house, kicked off his shoes without his usual grace before running up the stairs and straight to his bedroom. He already knew where he would put the plant the second he popped open his door, his eyes immediately traveling to the large window that faced the afternoon sun. _It needs lots of sunlight, and you need to water it whenever the soil starts to dry._ Shinra had also said something about naming it – it was a silly thing to do, Izaya thought, but Shinra continued to hassle him – but Izaya had yet to decide on a fitting name. He didn't even know what the plant would look like, after all.

So he gently sat it down on his windowsill, the sun basking over the contents of the pot. Izaya stared at it in wonder, a small smile curling on his face. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought it would be fitting to name the mysterious plant after the friend who had given it to him. There was something unpredictable about the plant that reminded him of Shinra, and indeed, the name would be fitting. What if it turned out to be the wrong color? Mutated? Or what if it was even a completely different plant then what Shinra had thought he had picked?

 _Irony._ Izaya thought, still staring at the little green sprout. He didn't specifically know what to expect, but over time, the plant would grow and show its true colors. Over time, Izaya would be able to better grasp what to do with it, how to deal with. _Irony_ , because the only thing he could do was let the little plant grow. Give it the water and love it needed, and watch it flourish into something beautiful or breath takingly ugly.

He decided that Irony would be it's name, and he would tell Shinra so the next morning, see if his newly acquired friend would get the joke about the plant and the name and the irony of their friendship. See if his friend got the joke that the plant was him, and the plant was their relationship, and that if either of them ever screwed up, the plant would die. _That is absolutely absurd, Izaya, plants can't symbolize relationships,_ Shinra would say with a laugh, shaking his head at how ridiculous Izaya could be, how he needed something tangible to understand something, like a relationship, that did not physically exist.

Izaya's eyes crinkled when he grinned too wide, _"Irony,"_ leaving his mouth right before deciding to leave the plant to itself and finish his homework.

 _!_

It was on the first day of High school that Izaya really understood his feelings. His never ending effort over the school break hadn't produced the fruit he had been looking for. There was fruit produced, no doubt, but not the kind he had originally thought he had planted. He and Shinra were practically inseparable now, the aspiring doctor always having something to text or say when he called. It was the friendship that Izaya had been trying to reinforce, but somewhere along the way, he had gotten _confused._

And now all of the fruit were rotting.

He was at home after the long first day and even longer evening, lying on his stomach with his pillow wrapped around his head. He had a nasty bruise high on his cheek, and his knuckles were all cut up and bleeding still. His thighs were burning, and he didn't doubt for a second that his lungs would scratch painfully every time he breathed for the next week.

But he didn't care.

He had gone to school expecting to meet up with Shinra, and eventually, Shinra's other friend from elementary. He had expected that. He hadn't expected the day to end with him running half way around the city, being chased by a monster who was ripping up the street signs as they went, getting hit here and there, and then eventually slinking away back home after the beast gave up looking for him. His phone was still vibrating, Shinra sending worry and concern and lectures and reprimands equally, but Izaya planned to ignore it. He planned to ignore it until he understood what it was that he was _truly_ upset about.

It wasn't Shizuo's nasty temper that had dampened Izaya's mood, hell, he would have asked the guy to be friends by the end of that chase. It had been exhilarating and completely surprising, a good, soft hearted guy with nothing more than a nasty temper. While Shizuo had stated his hatred right from the beginning, Izaya couldn't honestly say he had felt the same. He was curious about the blonde, just like Shinra was, and he suddenly felt like he better understood his long time friend simply from meeting Shizuo. At first, he had found immediate entertainment in the other, and had contemplated whether or not they could get along in the future. He could do it, and he would do it for the sake of Shinra. He had introduced them in the first place, after all. He had _earned_ Shinra as his friend, and with the right rubbing and coaxing, he could win Shizuo over too.

That mutual feeling of hatred had come a little bit later, sometime right after when Shizuo made the first swing at Izaya's face. The feeling came when Izaya was slipping around Shizuo's punch, his blade ready to strike, when Shinra came clear in view over the beast's shoulder.

He had been smiling.

No, his face had reflected a lot more than just a _smile_. Kishitani Shinra was in awe, pure, unadulterated awe at the monstrous capacity of his friend, and Shizuo's strength alone had transfixed him. The way Shizuo's rage transformed into rippling muscles that could uproot stop signs and perhaps even cars, it brought absolute glee to Shinra's eyes. Shizuo was the kind of guy that Shinra would never leave alone, and Izaya was very aware of that. It brought a sting like a thousand needles to his heart just to see Shinra look at Shizuo. And just like the mysterious lady in Shinra's life, the abnormality that made him love everything monstrous and supernatural, Shizuo fit perfectly into Shinra's pane; his world.

Izaya still wasn't in that world. While he was in a world above his humans, he still wasn't with Shinra, somewhere in between, or perhaps even just below.

And that was all that he wanted. "Shizu-chan, I hate you," He muttered into his sheets, the pillow still wrapped tightly around his ears to muffle out the sound of his own voice. It took another solid five minutes until he rolled over, throwing the pillow as aggressively as he could across his bedroom. It collided quietly with the wall, the soft sound of impact resonating throughout the room. "Stupid Shizu-chan." He rolled over onto his side, back to the wall with a deep frown on his face. The sun was just setting, an orange glow filtering in through his curtains and leaving an eerie patch of light on his floorboards. He used to think the sunset was peaceful. Perhaps now, it would just remind him of everything that was wrong.

Clicking his tongue, he sat up abruptly, rubbing at his eyes like he could change everything that had happened that day. Getting up, he quietly padded over to the windowsill, brushing a pale blue curtain to the side so he could see the little Venus fly trap that had sprouted out of the pot. Irony. It brought a smile to his face, just as it always did, and he leaned against the wall staring at it. It was still growing he assumed, two and some years old now, and cute. It had several healthy traps and shoots, but the plant had yet to flower. _Ironic._ He thought, because if the plant was his relationship with Shinra, then something had definitely flowered in his life. Something white and pure, delicate but beautiful. The fruits of his efforts that had thrown him into a whole, new world above that of a simple friendship. He then wondered, only for a moment, if Shinra was the reason why the flowers had not bloomed.

Would Irony flower, if Shinra...?

His smile suddenly faltered, a single hand going out to touch one of the leaves. He had read somewhere that the plant clones itself to continue growing forever, but he couldn't recall reading how often this happened. With that said, the plant that he was looking at, at that very moment, eventually would be a completely different plant at the core of it's essence. A clone. A simple replica.

A _familiar stranger._

Clicking his tongue he looked away, the sound of two tiny girls banging on his door suddenly distracting him. They were yelling for him, but they weren't coherent enough yet to make sense. So he went to his bedroom door and popped it open, glancing at the identical twins and their huge, mischievous eyes and smiles. Mairu was holding her hands out for him, while Kururi grabbed on to the sleeve of Mairu's little yellow sweater like her sister was about to run away and leave her behind.

"What do you two want?" Izaya asked, bending down to their height in annoyance. They always bothered him when he was contemplating and defining the theoretical, and always demanding his attention even when they didn't need it.

Mairu squealed, throwing herself forward and wrapping her small arms around Izaya's neck in a hug. "We missed you!" She squeaked, planting a sloppy, wet kiss to Izaya's cheek a second later. Kururi, who normally would have nodded in agreement, was staring, her small eyes widening when she saw the bruise on his face. She lifted her free hand and pointed, her lips quivering and eyes going wide. Izaya chuckled before patting her head, pulling her in close for a hug too. Perhaps it was time to tell them a story, a story about a child-eating monster.

"Do you want to hear a story?" He asked, the girls' faces lighting up instantly. They cared and loved him, they loved him so much. After everything he had ever said and did to them, they still loved him enough to follow him around like two little lost puppies. Did they have a reason to do it? No. They just did, because that was what love was, he learned. They mimicked him, they cried and screamed for his attention, and after all of his rejections, they had continued to try new ways to express their love.

Perhaps he should try too.

 _!_

In the last year of high school, Izaya finally managed to corner Shinra - or managed to work up the courage to do so, either or - in one of the many hallways away from prying ears. Away from the always angry Shizuo who prevented Izaya from speaking his own mind. Away from the new friend Kadota, filling in Izaya's spot whenever Shizuo chased him off the school grounds. Away from anyone and anything that could possibly witness the rising God, Orihara Izaya, confess to having mundane, and even possibly _romantic_ feelings.

Romantic feelings, for his _best friend._

It was in the empty hallway, standing in one of the many corners beside a wide window where the field could be seen, where Izaya decided to do what he vowed he would never do. He was throwing hours of in depth contemplation out the window, his palms sweaty and his heart fluttering in his chest. Shinra was standing by the window where Izaya had requested to meet him, alone and clearly thinking over the strange request. Rounding the corner now, Izaya considered just leaving him hanging. Excusing himself with 'Shizuo found me on my way', but it was a lie Shinra would easily sniff out, and he didn't want to damper Shinra's trust.

"Shinra." He said, quickly striding up to the meeting spot to get this terribly-thought out plan over with. He watched his friend who had sprouted another inch in height over the past year sharpen his attention, cast him a side glance with an easy going smile that sped up Izaya's heart. He took a quick breath, purposely letting his nervousness show so that Shinra would understand that he was serious. "Do you remember, when we started that biology club way back when, do you remember what you said about love?"

Casually, Shinra leaned his shoulder against the wall, the faintest smile forming on his face. He crossed his arms and ankles, head tilting in perplextion. "Of course I do. Are you in love?" He asked quickly, the smile on his lips a little too knowing for Izaya's liking.

Izaya snickered, grin quirking. He held Shinra's gaze, warm rusted brown and cool steel blue. "Perhaps I am. Do you remember what you said back then?" He took a step back casually like Shinra could _taste_ the sweat pouring down his forehead, shrugging it off like his heart wasn't beating wildly in his chest.

Shinra adjusted his glasses with his pointer finger, poking at the bridge of his nose in either thought or patience. He was so _calm._ "Which part, Izaya? I say and have said a lot of things about love. Are you talking about how I said I was fine being used as a puppet?" He asked, glancing up as if he expected Izaya to treat him exactly as the rest of his humans. There was a slight look of hurt that flashed across his eyes.

"No, no," Izaya said a little too quickly, waving that off like it meant nothing, "You asked me, if it is normal, for me, to love humans and abnormal to love everything else, then where do I draw the line? Well, I have found out where I draw that line."

Shinra glanced up at him, eyes searching intently before they suddenly widened, and he broke out into a toothy smile. Pushing up from the wall, he skipped over to Izaya, slapping a hand down on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, but he hesitated before he spoke. "You know... I was always suspicious."

Chest constricting, Izaya felt like he was going to throw up. Shinra had been suspicious of what? That Izaya's feelings were abnormal? That his love for Shinra was stranger than his love for humanity? That somewhere along the line, he had tripped and fallen for his best friend? Meeting Shinra's gaze, he felt uneasy about admitting it, but he also felt sure. He was sick of thinking about it, sick of hiding it. Sick of over analyzing his own actions when it came to Shinra, because what if he was being inappropriate? What if Shinra didn't feel the same way? He was sure of what he felt, sure of what the feeling swirling inside of him meant, and sure that Shinra could and would understand this and deal with is accordingly.

When Izaya didn't comment, Shinra continued on a little too quickly for both of their liking. "Like a little boy pulling at pigtails," Shinra said, smiling easing out as he pat Izaya's shoulder again, his eyes darkening for a moment, "You know, most of the school is suspicious... but if you're asking me to talk to him about it, I won't help you."

Izaya almost frowned. He almost let the confusion show on his face because _what on Earth are you talking about, Shinra?_ It didn't sound like Shinra understood at all. If anything, it sounded like Shinra thought...

 _Shizuo._

Izaya's mouth suddenly went dry and he looked away, face burning because he hadn't been clear enough. Shinra thought he was talking about Shizuo, about drawing the line of love after that monster, about accepting him into humanity.

Shinra was completely wrong.

"Actually," Izaya pulled his shoulder away, still looking down towards his shoes, dirtied and worn from the chases that had become almost daily. It was believable. The idea that one of them could fall for each other was completely believable, and he wasn't mad about Shinra's mistake. It made sense, _too much sense_ , but Shinra was way off the mark. Izaya glanced back up, catching a strange look on Shinra's face right before he decided to interrupt him.

"Shush," Shinra said, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I know it's selfish, but I have my reasons. I won't help you 'fess up to him. You're a horrible person, Izaya, and Shizuo is good at heart. You're no good for him." He didn't reach back out, simply let his cool grey eyes wander over Izaya's face for a moment before smiling gently. "You're bad for all of us, actually. But if that's all you had to say, I have a lovely lady to return home to~"

The lilt in Shinra's voice echoed out into silence for a couple of seconds until Izaya chuckled, hand going up to cover his mouth. Shoulders shaking, he started to laugh, waving Shinra off. Shinra wasn't perturbed by Izaya's suddenly laughing fit, if anything, it eased out what looked like lines of stress in his form. "Thank you." Izaya managed to say between gasps of air, his laugh echoing down the halls even as he turned away. "I'll be going, now." He managed, quickly taking off down the hall, the bubbles in his chest still floating in his throat and choking out the laughter that had flooded inside of him. He didn't glance back even when Shinra called out a farewell, didn't see the sad smile on his friend's face as he watched him go.

They didn't exchange phone calls. They didn't exchange text messages.

The sky was clear that night, the moon shining peacefully through the window in Izaya's bedroom. There wasn't a cloud to be seen amongst the stars, and yet Irony received the salty wet droplets that fell from above.

 _!_

Their awkward relationship continued to grow just like the traps that sprouted from Irony. The plant was fully grown now, and had it's permanent home on the windowsill in Izaya's most used bedroom; the luxurious office-apartment that he spent most of his time working from. Despite the fact that the plant received daily sunlight and love from Izaya, it still hadn't flowered.

An abnormality that Izaya had come to appreciate.

It was in the hospital after the stabbing that Izaya began to wonder. He began to wonder about Irony, and Shizuo, and Shinra. He had already spent too much time bed ridden and too much time off his cellphone to keep the thoughts out his mind. He could help it. There was nothing to do besides wonder, to think and contemplate with the great mind he had. It would be a shame if he didn't use it properly, after all.

Especially after his phone call with Shinra. Or rather, how the phone call with Shinra had ended.

What could have changed? If Shinra hadn't been such an oblivious idiot – not that Izaya had been dropping clues about his feelings – back then in high school, and if Izaya hadn't been such a coward, would their relationship be different? If Izaya had just said, 'No, I like you Shinra,' would things have changed? Or had Shinra known in the first place, and used Shizuo as an excuse, as a sort of rejection?

Izaya didn't think so. Shinra's love, just like Izaya's own, was far more peculiar and complicated than the love of regular humans. As long as Celty was part of the equation, there never would be room for anything of that sort – Celty was Shinra's number one, after all. Izaya couldn't even compete for second place, because second place went to that monster. Shizuo still sparked that look of pure fascination in Shinra's eyes, and even now, Izaya was still jealous. After what felt like a lifetime, Izaya himself still hadn't been able to replicate that same look in Shinra's eyes. Not even after surviving most of Shizuo's beatings; nothing.

He would never be able to step onto Shinra's pane, never be able to step into his world, and it frustrated the informant to no end. Perhaps Shinra had been playing earlier, teasing him on the phone, but Izaya knew better. It wasn't malice-laced affection.

"How are we doing?"

A small nurse entered the room, tearing Izaya from his thoughts. He smiled easily and immediately, shoving the thoughts of his most recent phone call out of his mind. The lady who had stepped into the room was young, and she looked to be the easily impressionable type. "Feeling better, Orihara-san?"

Was he feeling better? No. His chest was constricting again, panging with longing and excess love that he didn't know how to spread.

"I am quite alright," Izaya said, eyes sliding over slickly to give the girl a pretty look, "I'd be better though, if I could leave." There were multiple things that required his attention. Multiple emails to respond to, and lots of dirt to dig up on people; his job was never ending. He doubted he would be discharged any time soon, but he might as well have his fun terrorizing the staff to speed up the process.

"Ah, you're so silly. It will be a little bit longer before we let you out." The nurse said with a soft blush, mocha eyes tearing away from Izaya's sultry look to check the machines and jot down a few notes. "Maybe I can bring you up a little vase of flowers to brighten up the room. Make you feel a little more at home?"

Izaya simply smiled instead of answering, glancing back over to the window. _Flowers,_ he thought, _they wouldn't belong in here._ He would be out by the night, he figured, out whenever his predictable humans came to try and kick him while he was down. _Namie will water Irony, and collect my 'mail'. Ah. She is such a perfect assistant._ He had considered showering his secretary with his excess love, but she didn't want it. She had her eyes on her brother alone, the grossest form of unrequited love, but Izaya had felt he understood her better than most. Had understood how her love could make her hate, could tear her apart inside and the people around her.

But Izaya wasn't like her, and he came to find that her love, while similar, was completely different. She was bold and forward, telling Seiji every day how much she loved him, caring less about who saw her gushing over him.

And yet Seiji still did not love her, and claimed so every time he saw his sister, only calling her or using her for his own benefit. Seiji was the puppet master, and Namie's love had rendered her the puppet.

At least Izaya's love wasn't wasted like that.

 _!_

It didn't go according to plan.

If anything, the plan had gone so wrong that it couldn't even be considered a plan.

Ending up immobile, in a hospital, with two broken arms and several damaged organs was not part of _any_ of the plans. None of them at all.

Once again, Shizuo had won, and this time, he had almost ended the game.

 _Shizuo, Shizuo, Shizuo._

It was several months after the _incident_ with the monster, several months after Izaya had disappeared off the face of the Earth after finally meeting the face of a vending machine. He survived, albeit, even though he had made plans to screw over people in the event that he died, but he had made it. He had lived, and awoken alone. Somewhere else in the world. Quietly, with nothing from his old life to hold onto.

He wasn't happy.

The silence had become a regular part of his day, the silence being loud and completely unbearable, throbbing in his ears and suffocating him every time he opened his mouth.. His humans were scarce and few, his job in ruins just like his pride and reputation. There was a single, silent nurse who tended to his wounds, and machines. A home of sorts, for people _like him._

Broken beyond repair.

He was far away from the city he had grown up in, far away from the humans he had once loved and played with, far away from that beast who now scared him in a healthy way. The air smelled different, even tasted different on his tongue. The water, foreign and plain compared to the city where he had thrived. He had already completed the list in his head on things he did not like about his new surroundings, but just like everything distasteful, he buried it away into the back of his mind, pretended like everything was okay.

He would always be at least okay. He wouldn't make it if he thought there was a something wrong. Such was the coward's life.

Who was he now?

He was just some guy in a hospital bed.

He was sitting at the large window in his wheelchair, face devoid of any expression as the setting sun cast its gloomy shades of orange and yellow across his form. This had become his usual face, the face of indifference, the face that no one could see because there was no one there. He was scrolling through his phone, looking at the chats that once held his attention and even his entertainment, but by now, it was more of a motion. He went under a different name now, a different alias, but he had no need to comment on anything. He had no need to involve himself. He just looked on in silence, looked on from above the crowd where he belonged.

He no longer had a place in it.

Instead of observing people from afar and learning all he could without directly manipulating them, he had let himself get too involved. He had let himself fall in love. He had let himself stumble. He was supposed to be a God, a God to face that monster and send him back into the pits of Hell. He was supposed to be a God, crossing over from his pane and into that of the higher world, the all seeing and the abnormal. The world with monsters and valkyrie, with headless beings and sadistic doctors.

Instead, after everything he had done to try and earn the love he had wanted the most, he had put himself as far away from it as he could get. Borderline forgetting. Perhaps his life up to that point, perhaps it had all been in vain.

An incoming text message caught his attention – this was that one phone he had never used much before, and only a few people had the number, not that he ever responded – his eyes lazily hovering over the sender. He debated not opening it, debated just leaving the message for later because he was still playing dead and the world wasn't as interesting anymore. But he couldn't help but look - it was the second text message he had received since his disappearance, and just like the first, a little spark of hope awoke within his heart. The first text had been from Shiki. This one, could it be?

It was from one of his old contacts, an individual he had paid from time to time to keep an eye on Shinra over the years, to make sure that his work with both the Yakuza and the headless rider wasn't impacting the doctor in any negative way. It had been a precaution, he had claimed. Discreet protection for a valuable resource that he couldn't afford to lose, he had said.

He never had it in the first place.

He felt the first sting of disappointment, but then again, a text about Shinra was _almost_ just as good as a text _from_ him. Curious by nature, Izaya clicked on the message anyway. Crippled and dying alone, he didn't have anything better to do besides hold grudges and contemplate his mistakes in the past. Didn't have anything better to do besides resent Shizuo and theorize how he could have gotten Shinra's attention. He had come up with enough scenarios to write an entire novel; perhaps a twisted love story where the main character had to travel back in time hundreds and hundreds of time, until he got his love interest to fall in love with him. Perhaps if Izaya could use both of his hands without the pain he was currently ignoring, he could have had half the book written.

The message on his phone opened up, a short _the city is still the same_ typed out above a downloading picture. Izaya wasn't surprised. He was still well informed on what was happening to the city and it's people, even if he was far away and couldn't see them. He hadn't thought for a moment that his disappearance would make any difference – he was just like the rest of them. Just a single piece of a larger puzzle, currently lost, but it didn't really matter. The picture was constantly changing, pieces being removed and replaced all the time. His mind had come to develop the idea that he wasn't anyone special.

Just a face on the street, a passerby from the window. Not even his only true friend cared, the guy who had his phone number but had never reached out. Never wondered out loud or online if Izaya was okay. He never called. Never texted.

Never even said goodbye.

It would all end like this. With nothing. Sighing, Izaya almost switched back to the internet before the photo downloaded, deciding that he should avoid the pain or regret and jealousy as long as he could, but it caught his eye when it loaded and he stopped the movement immediately.

One, two, three seconds was all it took before he flipped the phone closed, letting it rest down in his lap, the ache in his fingertips suddenly bearable again. He glanced back out into the sunset, the smallest hint of a smile on his face while the shadows finally failed to define his sharpened features. Perhaps he still had more to learn about human behavior, clearly he had missed something somewhere within the equation.

He would find himself saving the photo later, the photo of Shinra, Celty, Kadota, and many more recognizable faces celebrating what must have been one of the doctors' many house parties. Perhaps Shinra had finally figured out how to have babies with the Dullahan, or maybe he finally got a sample from Shizuo. The possible reasons for the party - no - _thinking_ like Shinra to figure out why he would throw a party, brought a smile to Izaya's lips. Everyone had been posed for the photo in Shinra's living room, making silly faces or, like Shinra, drunk out of their minds and just looking absolutely ridiculous. Normally, such pictures had graced his features with a frown, like Shinra's hot pot party that he had somehow been excluded from.

But not this one.

The familiar faces in his lonely world weren't brought the smile to Izaya's face. It wasn't even Shinra who was obviously having a great time, winking at the camera like he knew something that no one else did, like he knew the picture would somehow end up in Izaya's hands.

It was the last time Izaya saw Shinra, be it in person or in photos. It was on the windowsill in the background, very much alive and large despite Izaya's prolonged absence. It was in the little blue pot that would easily fit in Izaya's fingers, always just the perfect size for his hands regardless of his age. Izaya could see white flowers blooming over a familiar arrangement of little red and green leaves and traps. Now, Izaya was quite sure what it meant, and what was happening. Shinra was still as difficult to deal with as ever, but then again, Izaya had never been very straightforward or easy himself.

Izaya glanced out into the sunset with thoughts swirling in his mind and a smile on his face, the setting sun disappearing behind the horizon.

He suddenly understood what it all had meant.


End file.
